Morrighan's Gold
by Arsinoe de Blassenville
Summary: A Drabble for LesleyThe Duo of Doom slays bosses and minions indiscriminately, swoons over a Necromancer named Lucius, and generally saves the world. A lot. COMPLETE
1. Episode 1: All That Glitters is Not Gold

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Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own the rights to Diablo, which is a creation of Blizzard

MORRIGHAN'S GOLD

A Drabble for Lesley

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Episode 1: All that glitters is not gold, but some of it is….

"It doesn't even fit in the stash anymore," Morrighan complained.

Ravenwing licked her lips and eyed the glittering pile greedily.

"Let me hold on to it," she said. "I'll keep it for you until you level up."

"You must think me an utter fool," the sorceress replied. "Keep your claw-like hands off it or I'll send an ice blast your way."

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"Not in town," giggled the assassin. 

Morrighan rolled her eyes, and decided to hoard some of her finer acquisitions. "A good piece of enchanted armour is like money in the bank," She looked aghast at her stash space. "But I'm running out of room!"

"You wouldn't if you weren't so pathetically obsessed with gems."

"I never met a gem I didn't like. Besides, I want to make a Prismatic Amulet. There's something about the name—_Prismatic Amulet, Prismatic Amulet_. It conjures up rainbow visions of beauty and power."

"You're quite mad."

"But I'm extremely wealthy." She crammed her lovely items into the stash and slammed the lid. Giving a deep satisfied sigh, she turned to her companion.

"Let's go kill something."

"Now you're talking."


	2. Episode 2: The Duo of Doom: or, The Doom...

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Disclaimer: I still don't own Diablo---nor Andariel, Duriel, Mephisto, or Baal.

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Episode 2: The Duo of Doom: or, the Doomettes

"I love it when they _spla-a-a-at_! All over like that!"

"Get the ring! Get the ring!"

Morrighan snatched up the wretched article, and stood there, gasping for breath. She looked ruefully at her assassin partner, Ravenwing.

"I'm getting too old for this."

"Probably," Ravenwing agreed. "But I'm not. See my gorgeous new blade talons. Heh, heh, heh… Tear through minions like a hot knife through ectoplasm."

A hideously gibbering gang of Returneds rushed at them.

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Spla-a-a-at!

"See, sort of like that!"

More minions charged them, and were promptly turned into minion-popsicles by Morrighan's nifty +1 cold skills uber-staff.

"Sweet!" approved Ravenwing.

"Yes, I think so too. It was traded to me by a particularly lovely Necromancer by the name of Lucius. Charming fellow—beautiful accent. Apparently trying to expiate his wizarding crimes in his own world by offing Baddies in ours."

"I think I know him. Silky, long, white-blonde hair, piercing grey eyes? Puts the romance back in Necromancer?"

"That's the one and only!"

The Duo of Doom took a moment to swoon.

"Oh, Lu-u-u-u-u-cius! _We're not worthy_!"

"Watch it," yelled Ravenwing. "It's one of those electro-bat Mothra sort of thingies!"

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Spla-a-a-at!

"Desert Wing," said Morrighan, chugging a mana potion. She lifted an eyebrow at Ravenwing.

'Next chamber?"

"I'm ready. You first."

Morrighan glared at her.

Ravenwing shrugged. "You know. Age before Beauty."

Morrighan smirked. "I know. Pearls before Swine."

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Spla-a-a-a-at!


	3. Episode 3: Happy Hour on the Kurast Dock...

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Disclaimer: Still don't own Diablo (nor any minions)

Episode 3: Happy Hour on the Kurast Docks

On a torchlit pier in Kurast, the normally collected (and occasionally somewhat imposing) sorceress Morrighan stood by, tapping her foot impatiently, and glaring at her partner Ravenwing. 

Although this was not an unusual state of affairs for the self-styled Doomettes, it was a problem that was always compounded when the two found themselves in Kurast. 

The battered jungle port Kurast, wherein the normally silent (an occasionally somewhat talented) assassin Ravenwing could once again plead futilely for hours with the master assassin Natalya for the name of her weaponsmith.

"Look, lady! We're like, sister assassins! And I'm working my tail and both my wrists off out there to defeat Mephisto's minions. All you do is stand here, looking tough, chatting it up with these…" Ravenwing paused, completely incensed, "-banana toting, half clothed- natives!"

Morrighan coughed forcefully, exhaling magical sparks of lightning for dramatic effect. Ravenwing ignored Morrighan. Natalya ignored Ravenwing.

The younger woman railed on. "I've found perfect replicas of your armor, your boots, -and- your helmet! Look here ma'am…" Ravenwing lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Some trader in Harrogath named 'Amazonbabe23' told me if I found an exact duplicate of your weapon, I could be –invisible-! If I were invisible, the Travincal council would be so totally…"

Unable to maintain her semblance of composure any longer, Morrighan interjected through clenched teeth, "Ravenwing... Portal is –open-. Neither evil nor I can wait… for your monologue to end. Again."

Ravenwing gave a half-hearted chuckle, "Oh, come on, Morrighan, I almost have her! She has to say something –sometime-. I mean, no one can stand there completely silent and unmoving forever! I mean, it would be cool if I could, because I would look, like, um, really cool and evil. And stuff. But she just –can't-!"

But Morrighan was already walking briskly towards her shiny blue portal, staff at the ready, robes flapping in the sea breeze. 

"Um, I'll give you gold. Lots of gold. Or, er, Gems! You want gems, try -her-…" Ravenwing gestured frantically at the retreating figure of her friend, "… I can tell you, I know she's got some perfect diamonds in that stash of hers… I know where she keeps the key! She gets all the good weapons anyway!" 

No response. Feeling quite ready to scream in utter irritation, Ravenwing prepared to lose all decorum and put a roundhouse right into the Master Assassin's face, but for some reason, a tiny voice in the back of her head nagged _'not in town'_. Natalya kept staring emotionlessly into space, volunteering not even a change of expression. Meanwhile, somewhere, many miles away, Morrighan apparated in and began heroically and quite enthusiastically battling the forces of darkness in the fallen Kurast Bazaar. 

Ravenwing watched the last wisps of Morrighan's portal dissipate to nothing, as across the docks, Captain Meshif and his crew burst into a slightly off- key rendition of a drinking song from Westmarch. Apparently, happy hour on the docks had begun early. 

The assassin sat for a moment, suddenly feeling rather ill, dangling her feet into the sea, and determined to get herself a pint before setting out on the long, perilous journey through the Flayer jungle and across the Great Marsh, to meet her equally abused and unappreciated comrade.

Authors' note: To all those who have reviewed: Thank you for your +1 comments! _You—are—our--- inspiration_------!


	4. Episode 4: To Hell in a Handbasket

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Disclaimer: I have not yet wrested ownership of Diablo from Blizzard. I must try charm next.

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Episode 4: To Hell in a Handbasket

"Bloody hell, that hurts!" snarled Morrighan, wiping the undigested gobbets of carrion from her usually spotless armor.

"That was a Corpse-Spitter, it's _supposed_ to hurt," the assassin Ravenwing observed. "This is, after all, Hell. Pain and damnation. And stuff."

Unfortunate, but true. The Duo of Doom had at last arrived at the destination so often suggested to them by much of their acquaintance. 

"I hate this place," said Morrighan bitterly. "It's depressing."

Ravenwing rolled her eyes. "Hello? Hell—remember?"

"Well, I could design a better Hell than this! The monsters I can deal with, but the Pandemonium Fortress resembles nothing so much as Union Station in Chicago with no benches, books, or bars."

"Chicago? Oh yes, that nifty parallel universe with the guns you told me about." Ravenwing wiped off a bit of minion clinging to her blade talons. "There's a nice cozy fireplace up at the Fortress though."

"Just what Hell needs," Morrighan sneered, "more _fire_."

Ravenwing was bored. "Well, come on, then. Let's go kill the nasties and move on!" She turned down the steps to the River of Flame.

"Did I ever tell you how much I hate hot weather?"

"Morrighan, stop complaining! It's undignified!"

"Well, it's hard to be dignified _when I'm losing the entire water-weight of my body in sweat_!" She raised her staff and blew out some random ice bolts, just to cool off.

At that moment, large hulking green giants, resembling nothing so much as nauseated weight lifters, approached, clubs raised aggressively.

A flurry of slashing blows, shards of ice, and inhuman grunts ensued. The jolly green corpses sprawled about, dropping treasure.

"_YES_!" screamed Morrighan, all composure to the winds. "_A FLAWLESS AMETHYST_! I now have all the gems for my Prismatic Amulet! Go me!" She fled into a portal, trailing a dazed assassin in her wake.

"Maximum fire resistance, maximum fire resistance! Oh frabjuous day!"

"Caloo, callay," muttered Ravenwing. "Can we get on with it now?"

"Right away. Lord de Seis must die!"

"Not until I figure out how he steals the potions off us!"

Morrighan pondered the problem. She beckoned Ravenwing over and dropped her voice to a whisper. "We'll send in the lackeys first. Keep your eye on His Thieving Lordship." 

Diane and Fiona, dutiful if taciturn young Rogue archers, stood silent by the Pandemonium hearth, all unknowing the unpleasant fate being arranged for them.

The Duo of Doom, with the sub-duo of doomed, swung into action.

Death wails sounded, and Ravenwing yelled, "Eureka! I see how he does it!"

"All right then. Time to die, Lord de Seis!" bellowed Morrighan, slamming the vile creature with an orb of ice with every shout. "Do you have any idea-- how sick --I am --of you?"

The Lord and his minions lay melting forthwith. An unnerving rumble shook the floor.

"Quick!" shouted Ravenwing, opening a portal, "Let's go back and get the Dumbettes—I mean the Dim Sum of Two—I mean our loyal henchwomen!"

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"One, two! And through and through! Our vorpal blades will snicker-snack!" paraphrased Morrighan, overcome by the moment.

"You really are the SuperHero of Useless Information."

"Philistine!"

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A/N—Thanks again for the reviews. Note to Alex Ultra: Ravenwing and Morrighan believe themselves to be in a real, corporeal world. Whether they or we or anyone actually is, has always been open to question.


	5. Episode 5: Swords and Ice Magic

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Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Diablo. What a shock.

Episode 5: Swords and Ice Magic

"I'm cold," whined Morrighan.

Ravenwing rolled her eyes, and reminded herself to count to ten. She counted to ten several times.

"I thought you'd like Harrogath. It's a change from _the eternal flames of damnation!"_

Morrighan sniffed. "I don't care. I'm cold, and some of the baddies are resistant to my nifty cold staff. That's very inconvenient."

"We could look for reinforcement. Let's stop by Malah's."

"Let's go the other way. If Cain sees us, he'll say something pompous about not saving the world fast enough. Twit."

Malah's was warm, cozy, and filled with local barbarian types, attractive only at a distance. Closer in, the smell of permanent sweat, dried minion blood, raw bearskins, and fermented goat's milk took their toll on the whole hot manly thing.

"The clinging smell of piss in the corners doesn't help, either," commented Morrighan. "Men are animals."

"Not like us," Ravenwing agreed. "Ale's good, though."

They drank a while in companionable silence, and then Morrighan looked past Ravenwing at the newbie making his entrance at the doorway.

"Well, _hello, handsome_!" she muttered.

Ravenwing turned, and saw the Necromancer Lucius, pale of hair, fair of face, and disdainful of expression.

Morrighan was, deplorably, making eyes at him. Ravenwing shuddered, and saw that Lucius was headed over to their table, one brow elegantly raised. _How do they do it? _she wondered, remembering that other fellow, the Paladin Spock. They could use some of that otherworld mojo.

"Ladies," Lucius purred. Ravenwing growled a greeting, and kicked Morrighan under the table. Business first, after all.

Morrighan leaned forward confidentially, forgetting that her armor covered all the cleavage. "We're planning a little foray into the Worldstone Keep, Lucius. Interested?"

"You have, I take it, already completed your adventures in the Halls of Pain?" asked Lucius.

"Oh yes, pain all gone, and baddies gone too."

"Pity," mused Lucius, with a hint of sulkiness. "I was so looking forward to the Halls of Pain."

Ravenwing snorted, and it was her turn to be kicked. Morrighan smiled sweetly for the Necromancer. "The loot at the quest's end will be tremendous, and the prestige from completing the quest might go far to rehabilitating you back in your own world."

Lucius, at his most silken, queried, "Are you saying you would forgo being the Duo of Doom?"

Morrighan smiled dreamily, "In order to become the Trio of Terror."

Ravenwing felt the ale go up her nose. "Trio of Tripe—Ouch!" She rubbed her ankle, and resigned herself to the inevitable.

Ravenwing later admitted that Lucius, his lovely handmaid Itonya, and his party of skeletal mages and the Fire Golem really made a difference at the end of the trail. They had heard that Baal was tough, but they never gave him an opportunity to display toughness. He was zapped with creepily astounding speed, the angel made the usual doleful remarks about their inadequacy, and there was quite a sound and light show at the end. Morrighan was showing off, telling Lucius she had seen something similar at Luxor, and Lucius was chatting quite amiably, ignoring Tyrael, and trying to be dignified while picking up gold pieces off the known universe's ugliest carpet.

It was all something of a letdown. So they had saved the world again. So what? Drinks on the house at Malah's? More pats on the back from that layabout Cain? Lucius thought he'd be allowed to return to his own world, but seemed unenthusiastic.

"They'll probably give me a desk job at the Ministry."

"But what else is there to do?" asked Ravenwing.

Lucius smirked, and gave an elegant shrug. "We could go do it all over again."

Morrighan, horrified, said, "But—that would be, like---_HELL_!"

Finis

Thanks to all! (Including Fritz Leiber!)

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